Chronicles of Craziness
by lydiamaartin
Summary: Rita Skeeter has come to Hogwarts and she's out for Potter-Weasley blood. Personal & untrue articles about the kids are appearing in the Daily Prophet, and all hope seems lost until one of their own comes up with the idea to fight back-with words. HIATUS
1. Beginnings

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize.

* * *

**It was September 1st, 2017, and Albus Severus Potter had the strangest feeling that someone was out to ruin his life.

Not that he hadn't had that feeling before, of course. He'd had it everytime James roped him into pulling a prank, or Lily let loose the waterworks with a sob story to blame him, but this time, it was different. This time, it wasn't just sibling rivalry. In fact, he wasn't even sure this was about _him_, really. After all, plenty of people hated his parents, right? And wouldn't one of those people just possibly like to see Harry Potter's son ruined?

Albus shook himself out of his morbid musings and tuned back into the conversation going around the Slytherin table. At his side, Scorpius was attempting to get a word in edgewise with an enthusiastic prefect who was excitedly telling the first-years all about Hogwarts—not that any of them were actually paying attention. Albus was mostly just glad that someone was acting friendly to them.

"And that blond teacher over there, she's our newest," the prefect was saying. "She just started this year—her name's something Skeeter, I heard—and she's gonna be teaching History of Magic. Thank Merlin, I say, because Binns was just horrible! I can't believe he lasted for sixty years as a ghost and who knows how many years before that!"

Albus followed the prefect's finger directly into a sharp, grey gaze covered by jeweled glass. He bit back a yelp of surprise, because she was staring directly at him with a look that promised vengeance; for what, he didn't know, because he had never spoken two words to her in his life.

Trying not to shiver, he averted his eyes, smiled weakly at Scorpius and the prefect, and poked at his plate of mouth-watering food which suddenly didn't seem very appetizing at all.

He could already tell that this was going to be a _long_ year.

* * *

Rita Skeeter, now well past her prime and into middle-age, sat behind her rosewood desk, a smirk curling her lips as she thought of the year that awaited. The only reason she had accepted this stupid job was for revenge—revenge again that stupid Granger whelp and the Potter idiot and their beloved family.

Of course, Granger and Potter were too well-warded these days for her to get even the slightest scoop on them before they ran off to the Quibbler and further ruined her reputation, but their children and nieces and nephews were all right here at Hogwarts, completely unprotected against her Quick-Quotes Quill and acid tongue.

Nearly, rubbing her hands with glee, Rita thought once more of the two first-years she had paid extra attention to during the Sorting Ceremony. Albus Potter and Rose Weasley—what gems! They were practically carbon copies of their father and mother, respectively. And the girl was too young to come up with something as clever and conniving as her mother had to blackmail her, and besides, she'd registered her Animagus form with the Ministry years ago.

They had nothing over her. And soon, she would have _everything_, whether true or not, over them. Every little quirk would be twisted to suit her purposes, until she'd have them begging for mercy at her feet. It was almost too good to be true, but Rita didn't believe in such mundane Muggles sayings like 'if it's too good to be true, it probably isn't'. That was for Muggle-lovers like the Weasleys, not her, a respected pureblood reporter.

"What do you think, Princess?" she crooned to the snow-white cat curled up on one side of her desk. "Are you excited to ruin the Potter-Weasley kids?"

Princess lazily opened one bright blue eye and meowed. Rita interpreted that to mean 'yes', because when had her beloved pet ever disagreed with her?

Had anyone been near her quarters that night, they would have heard triumphant laughter resouding in the halls. And then they would have scurried away as fast as they could in fear of their lives and sanity.

* * *

Elsewhere in Britain, Hermione Granger Flooed into her best friends' house without warning, concern and fury blending to make a peculiar expression on her face and brandishing a newspaper.

"Harry! Ginny!" she called, entering the kitchen where she knew they both probably were. "Oh, thank goodness, you're awake. I have awful news!"

"Death Eater resurgence?" Harry guessed, looking alarmed.

"Rose was Sorted into Slytherin?" Ginny added, grinning.

Hermione rolled her eyes and smacked her sister-in-law lightly with the newspaper. "No! They have a new professor for History of Magic!"

"Isn't that a good thing?" Harry asked, frowning in confusion. "I know you're not supposed to speak ill of the dead and all, but Binns was a terrible teacher!"

Hermione unrolled the newspaper and shoved it in their faces. "Well, that depends on his replacement, now doesn't it?"

"Hogwarts is proud to welcome new History of Magic teacher, Professor Rita Skeeter, into its rank! We're sure she will do a wonderful job at educating our children on the history of our world," Ginny read aloud, then did a double-take. "Professor _Rita Skeeter_?"

"Rita Skeeter," Harry repeated, his words hollow. "Oh, Merlin, no. Albus—James—all our nieces and nephews! She'll be out for their blood!"

"They're only kids," Ginny breathed, eyes wide. "She can't possibly—they're _eleven_ for crying out loud!"

"She had no problem ruining Harry's reputation at fourteen," Hermione said grimly. "And Torie, Nika, and Molly are even older than that. To say nothing of all the others."

"I'm pulling them out," Harry said determinedly, heading for the fireplace. Ginny caught his arm before he could walk more than three steps. "Ginny! I'm not going to leave our kids at the mercy of _Rita Skeeter_!"

"You can't just pull them out, Harry," Ginny told him firmly. "They've been wanting to go to Hogwarts for years. I'm sure—" she swallowed. "I'm sure they can handle someone as petty as Rita Skeeter."

"Well, I'm sure they can't," Harry muttered, but reluctantly stayed in the kitchen. "They're only _kids_, Hermione, what are we going to do?"

Hermione looked troubled, but composed herself. "We help them in any way we can," she decided. "Even if they don't want our help."

Ginny dropped the newspaper in the trash and sighed. "Merlin help us all."

* * *

**Author's Notes: I know it's a little slow starting out, but this is kind of just the prologue. Things will pick up pace soon, I promise! If you liked it, please review!**


	2. First Impressions

**Disclaimer: I own some of the students, but no one you recognize.

* * *

**Rose Weasley all but bounced her way into the History of Magic classroom, a sparkle in her eyes at the thought of new knowledge to be discovered by the best teacher Headmaster Flitwick could find. Professor Skeeter used to be a journalist, she knew, so she _must_ know a lot about her subject.

Place her bookbag on one seat and her History books on another, Rose took a seat right smack in the middle of the front row. The other two seats were being saved for Albus and Scorpius, as she snapped at anyone who tried to sit there.

"Like they'll want to sit at the front of the classroom, Weasley," Caleb Blake, one of the Slytherin boys, told her with a roll of his eyes."They've got sanity, you know."

Rose huffed. "Good to know someone has, Blake," she shot back and tossed her hair to make sure it would hit him in the chest. With a pleased smile at his yelp, she turned back to the front of the classroom.

Albus and Scorpius entered, as if on cue, and headed straight for her. Albus, to her satisfaction, immediately handed her bookbag to her and sat down, but Scorpius remained standing.

"What's the matter?" Albus asked absently as Rose frowned up at the blond boy.

"Are you two crazy?" Scorpius asked in disbelief. "Why would you voluntarily sit at the _front_ of the classroom?"

Behind her, Rose heard a muffled snort, and wished she knew enough hexes to practice them on Caleb.

Albus glanced sidelong at Rose. "Because this is Rose," he explained to Scorpius. "And I'm just along for the ride."

Rose beamed at her cousin. She had taught him well. "Have a seat, Scorpius," she urged, taking her books off the seat on her other side. "You'll get used to it."

Scorpius shot Albus a dubious look, but obeyed. All further conversation was halted when Professor Skeeter strode into the room.

Rose took in her teacher with a critical eye, measuring how much she looked like a good teacher. Professor Skeeter had gelled blond curls which frostily framed her angular face and somehow complemented her glittery green robes. Rose couldn't see her eyes, hidden behind glass and jewels as they were, but the professor seemed to be staring at her—or Albus, she wasn't sure. She also wasn't sure if the look was at all friendly.

"Hello, class," said Professor Skeeter in tinkling voice that oozed fake geniality. "I am Professor Skeeter, and I will be teaching you History of Magic for the next five years, and, if you choose to pursue it further, the next seven years."

She clapped her hands and smiled, sweet as sugar, at all of them. "I'm positive we're going to have a wonderful time getting to know each other!"

Rose didn't miss the doubtful looks shared between Scorpius and Albus, or the mumbles breezing through the room like winds. Something about this professor seemed…_off_.

She had no idea just how off things were.

* * *

Neville Longbottom wasn't the type to have a list of least favorite people. And even if he did have such a list, most of the people on it probably wouldn't be alive. But of those who were, Rita Skeeter definitely topped the entire list. And he was pretty sure he wasn't one of her favorite people either. So, he didn't quite understand why she was standing in one of his greenhouses, a vaguely sinister smile on her face.

"May I help you?" he asked formally, not bothering to paste a smile on his face. Knowing her, she would wipe it off soon anyway, whether intentionally or unintentionally.

"Oh, I was just hoping to acquaint myself with my fellow professors," simpered Rita, sauntering closer.

Neville backed up and hoped she simply had reporting in mind. "Um, all right. I'm Neville Longbottom, I teach Herbology, and I really should be getting home before my wife gets worried."

"Oh, you have a wife?" There was a worrying gleam in Rita's eyes. "What's her name?"

Neville opened his mouth to answer, then clamped it shut, remembering who he was talking to. "Mrs. Longbottom," he answered, and tried not to smirk when Rita looked annoyed. "Look, I'd love to stay and chat, but I need to get home." _And away from you_, he added silently. He hadn't forgotten her slander of Harry and Hermione and Hagrid in his fourth year, or that book on Dumbledore.

"Of course," Rita beamed at him. "I understand. I was just hoping for a few words."

Neville braced himself. "As long it's only a few," he said, trying not to groan. For Merlin's sake, he trusted Draco Malfoy more than he trusted Rita Skeeter!

Rita walked closer, a glittering smile that gave him the creeps painted on her face. "Are you excited for the new year?"

"Of course I am," Neville said. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"I wasn't finished, Professor," said Rita, an edge to her voice.

Neville gathered his courage and stared her down. "You've spoken a few words and so have I, and I really must be getting home. Sorry."

Rita remained silent for one long, tense-filled moment before turning on her heel and stalking out. "Good night, Professor Longbottom," she sniffed, slamming the door behind her.

It took Neville a good three minutes to stop glowering at the door and head to the Hagrid's hut for a Floo-connected fireplace.

* * *

Entering the Ravenclaw Common Room had never been a source of much fuss until the day seventh-year Victoire Weasley stalked in, soaking wet and fuming and looking ready to kill.

"Vicka," gasped Allison Appleby, hurrying to her friend. "What happened?"

"Professor Rita—_bloody_—Skeeter," Victoire hissed as Jenny Grace cast a quick drying charm on her. Her statement caused several more gasps, partly because it was very rare for Victoire to swear and partly because it was a mortal crime to badmouth a new teacher in the Ravenclaw Common Room.

"What'd she do?" Allison asked sympathetically, steering Victoire to a comfy couch near the fireplace, shooing away some first-years in the process.

"She interviewed me," Victoire muttered, grabbing a blank sheaf of parchment someone had left behind and flinging it into the fire to demonstrate just how mad she was. "And interviewed me. And interviewed me. Dear Merlin, she just wouldn't _stop_, not even when it began raining! And her questions—"

Here she broke off, trailing into furious mumbles under her breath until Jenny pressed her further. "What kind of questions did she ask, Vicka?"

Victoire raised her head, casting an annoyed look at the fireplace as though it were the cause of all her problems. "'Tell me'," she began mockingly, "'is Harry Potter a good uncle? Does he treat you well? Give you gifts? Make you feel special? And what about Hermione Granger? I hear she's quite the nagging shrew when she wants to be. Is that true? I just want to get to know you and your family better, sweetheart. After all, we will be in the same classroom for the next year'."

"But…none of us are taking History of Magic," Allison pointed out, bemused.

Victoire breathed a few choice curses. "Exactly! Of course, that didn't stop her either! No, then she moved on to my mother, and if she wants to get a good look at a 'useless, blonde bimbo', she should get a mirror! And then it was about poor Albus and Rose and _how_ could they make friends with the son of a Death Eater and do I think they're traitors? Merlin's tangled beard, I hate her! She's trying to ruin my family's reputation, I just know it!"

"Don't you think you're overreacting a bit?" Joseph Davies asked a bit nervously. Victoire rarely lost her temper, but when she did, it was a sight to behold—and to run away from.

Blue eyes, filled with the fire of righteous anger, narrowed at him. "No," Victoire snapped, and whipped her head around so her strawberry-blond braids smacked his face.

Joseph rubbed his cheek and sighed. If Skeeter had already gotten on Victoire's bad side, it wouldn't be long until she was on the rest of the Ravenclaws as well.

This was shaping up to be a long year.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Thanks for reviewing, everyone who did! Admittedly, the lack of reviews was a little disappointing, but hopefully, now that Skeeter is moving in on the kids, more people will like it enough to leave a review! I already have the next chapter written and ready to be upload, so please review if you want to see it posted soon! Thanks! **

**Why am I ending everything with an exclamation point?!**


	3. Set In Motion

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize, as per usual.

* * *

**Neville read it first, and kicked himself for not seeing this coming. _Of course_ Rita would take this opportunity to ruin Harry and Hermione's families. She should be supremely glad that she was sitting on the opposite side of the table from him and that he was—for now—a bit too chivalrous to hex a lady.

Rita, for her part, was looking very smug. Only two weeks into school, and she already had a whole bunch of juciy gossip that she had been able to weave into a partly-true story and send off to the _Daily Prophet_ under one of her many aliases.

**From Semi-Functional to Dysfunctional: Do the Weasleys Actually Care About Their Multitude of Children?**

Rita flashed all her teeth in a gleeful smile as she ran her hands over the title, etched on the front page of the paper in big, black, attention-catching letters. Even if this didn't ruin those stupid Weasleys, she had a whole year to work her magic.

She didn't, of course, miss the furious looks several of the staff and students were giving her. Neville Longbottom seemed as though he were trying to keep his temper under control, but Victoire Weasley had no such inhibations, and was glaring coldly at her from the Ravenclaw table.

It had been a mistake to interview the brat, Rita reflected. Victoire was no foolish Gryffindor, and she was far too smart to fall for most of Rita's usual tricks. She would only approach the girl again if she absolutely needed to, and she would come armed with more tricks than redirection and her Quick-Quotes Quill.

Her gaze slid over to the Gryffindor table, where most of the Potter-Weasley spawns were seated. All of them had that typical look of righteous anger on their faces, particularly the eldest Potter boy. He was gesturing wildly, and only keeping his voice down at the command of one of his red-haired cousins, but it was enough for her to know that he was furious.

Perfect.

* * *

"This is an outrage!" James Potter spluttered once in the relative safety of the Gryffindor Common Room. "How could she—why would she—I'm going to _kill_ her."

"I'd advise you against that, cousin dearest," Roxanne Weasley said dryly, though there was fire in her eyes. "There are much better ways to get revenge than murder, you know. Especially against a teacher."

"I don't care!" James slammed his fist into the nearest table. "Roxie, she's trying to ruin our family's name! What's all this nonsense about Grandmum Molly's food-poisoning—she's never poisoned a soul in her life, and certainly not her _grandchildren_! Where does she get this ridiculous nonsense?"

"She twists our words around to make them suit her ends," Molly Weasley said, perching on the edge of Roxie's chair. "She's a reporter, that's what she does. Dad says most of them except a few newbies are like that over at the Ministry."

"Thanks, but that doesn't really help us," Fred Weasley said, ambling over to his sister and cousins. "We need a plan, we need revenge. I'm not just going to sit there and glare at her in silence."

"Yeah, we're the children of heroes," Dominique, the eldest of them, agreed, steadying James when he nearly tripped over a bookbag. "We can take some lousy busybody reporter!"

"Yeah!" echoed her cousins, except for Roxanne who had noticed a group of first-years huddled near them, shooting them scared looks.

"What's the matter?" she asked, leaning over her chair to see them better.

One of the girls squeaked in surprise, and her friends seemed too scared to speak. Understanding lit up Roxanne's face, and she scowled.

"You guys believe that gossip rag?" she asked, her voice shaking with fury.

"No!" protested one of the boys, but he didn't sound too sure.

"You do, don't you?" James demanded, rounding on them and making them even more terrified. "Well, that's—just—_great_!" He whirled around to face the rest of the Common Room. "Who else believes Skeeter's stupid article?"

There were a few nervous titters here and there. No one responded out loud, but that was all the answer James needed.

"Terrific," he muttered, leveling his fiercest glower on all of them. "Our friends, our Housemates—you actually believe her?"

"Well, we don't know if it's true or not," admitted one fourth-year boy, looking nervous when Dominique focused her glare on him. "Is it?"

"No!" shouted all five of the kids, trading exasperated and annoyed glances with each other.

"This is ridiculous," Molly muttered. "Whatever you guys are cooking up as revenge, I want in."

Dominique grinned wickedly at her cousins. "If it's in you want, then in you shall get."

Watching the five of them huddle together in an eclectic combination, the rest of the Gryffindors shivered. Rita Skeeter wasn't the only one out for blood. And it certainly wasn't metaphorical Weasley blood about to be spilled—no, it would be Skeeter blood, plain and simple.

* * *

"How dare she!" Rose fumed, plopping down next to Victoire, Allison, and Jenny on their usual couch. "Is she trying to make as many Weasleys angry as possible or something? This is despicable!"

"We know, Rosie, we know," said Allison sympathetically. "We don't believe one word that useless hag spouts, do we, everyone?"

Victoire's well-practiced glare frightened pretty much everyone in Ravenclaw into nodding. "Right," said Victoire, half-pleased, half-annoyed. "We're Ravenclaws. We have more sense than to listen to the blatherings of some old lady with a chip on her shoulder."

"Um, Miss Weasley?" asked a terrified third-year hesitantly. "It wasn't Rita Skeeter who wrote the article."

Victoire crossed her arms. "And just who do you think 'Margarita Skit' is, Entwhistle?" she demanded. "There's a see-through alias if I've ever seen one. Besides, some of those quotes are from people in this castle, and last I checked, there's no Maragarita Skit anywhere here."

The boy chewed on his lip. "Yes, but…well, there's no proof."

"Proof of what?" Rose asked, her anger building. "That my family is poor and dysfunctional and can't feed twelve kids separately? Never mind the fact the most of our parents are filthy rich and Grandmum can cook enough to feed a dozen kings _without_ food-poisoning them."

"No," said the boy, who seemed to have a little more courage facing down a first-year. "There's no proof that it's Rita Skeeter. I mean, solid evidence, not just circumstantial theories. Sure, this all makes sense in here, but who do you think is actually going to listen over at the Daily Prophet? Certainly not her bosses—they love her for feeding the public gossip like this."

"That doesn't seem very fair, though," Jenny mused.

"It's real life, Grace," muttered one of the seventh-year boys. "It's never fair."

Victoire's eyes lit up. "Well, what if we could make it fair?" she breathed, excited.

"How?" Rose asked, knowing her elder cousin well enough to recognize the sparkle of a new idea in her eyes.

Victoire grinned. "Follow me," she told Rose, then grabbed Allison and Jenny and hauled them out of the Common Room, Rose following behind with no small amount of trepidation.

* * *

"Sister dearest, I think you're insane," Dominique declared, seated upon a plush armchair in the Room of Requirement. "Completely and utterly insane."

Victoire rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored her sister and focused her attention on the rest of her cousins and their closest friends, all gathered around her. "Well? What do the rest of you think?"

Scorpius raised a hand. Victoire shot him an I-am-not-a-teacher-little-boy look and he pretended he had been scratching his head. "Um, isn't it kind of risky? I mean, she _is_ a teacher."

"So what?" James, who did not have a high opinion of any teachers besides Professor Longbottom, punched Scorpius lightly in the shoulder. "The worst she can do is give us a detention and take away point. And now that we have family members in all four Houses, it'll probably all even out eventually."

"Or she could ruin our reputations further," Lucy Weasley piped up, biting her nails. "I'm just saying," she added hastily at the looks Victoire and James sent her.

"I think," Albus said slowly, mulling over the idea, "that it's actually a good idea."

Victoire beamed at him and opened her mouth to say something.

"Y'know, except for the fact that it's totally insane," Dominique inserted somewhat unhelpfully, earning herself a glower from her elder sister.

"How could we even manage it?" Roxanne asked skeptically. "We're just a bunch of schoolkids and, new or not, she's one of the authority figures around here."

Johnny Longbottom's eyes lit up. "One of," he repeated deliberately.

"What?" Fred asked him, confused.

A grin flashed across Johnny's face. "_Dad_," he breathed. "He could help us—and he totally would. I've seen the way he looks at Skeeter; he hates her as much as we do. I bet if we asked him…"

"He could give us the supplies," Louis Weasley realized out loud. "Alibis if we need them, say we were doing detention with him if she tries to point a finger at us."

"But what would we—" Molly began, then sighed and shook her head upon noticing the expression on Victoire's face. Everyone knew when the wheels were turning in their eldest cousin's brains. "Never mind. I'm sure you've figured everything out by now, Vicka."

Victoire laughed. "Oh, yes, I have," she smiled at all her cousins and friends. "Hello and welcome, everyone, to the staff of _Crazy Chronicles_. I do hope you'll enjoy working with us."

Smiles sprouted on the faces of almost everyone in the Room, and suddenly, everything seemed much brighter.

* * *

**Author's Notes: And the plot gets rolling! This is going to be fun =D I hope I didn't disappoint with this chapter, and thank you to everyone who reviewed the last few chapter; you guys are awesome! Hope you all enjoyed this enough to leave a review! I'll probably upload the fourth chapter sometime tomorrow, if all goes as planned. Again, thanks to my wonderful reviewers, I love you all :) **


	4. Mirror, Mirror

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recognize.

* * *

**"I still don't understand why it's named _Crazy Chronicles_," grumbled Fred to Albus as the younger boy scribbled away on a piece of parchment. "Nothing crazy about it."

"Can you think of a better name?" Albus asked absentmindedly, not really paying attention to his cousin. Despite being only eleven, Victoire had appointed him one of the writers on their newspaper, and he had to admit that he was loving the job.

Fred shot him a good-natured glower and grabbed his completed stories to take them over to Jenny and Allison for editing. "Whatever."

Albus smirked and returned to writing: _There's free press and then there's slander worth suing over_, his quill scrawled over the parchment in his large, loopy cursive. _Honestly, I find it hard to understand or belive why the not-so- mysterious 'Ms. Skit' is using innocent children to serve her own petty needs._

He chewed on the edge of his quill, wondering how to phrase his next sentence. Subtle and not-so-subtle digs at Rita Skeeter were his specialty, as everyone had found out, much to their amusement, a day earlier. Placing his quill to the parchment, he began to write again.

The mirror in his pocket began vibrating. He dropped his quill and ducked under the table before pulling out his mirror and looking into his little sister's bright hazel eyes. "Lily?" he whispered. "What are you doing? I could have been in class!"

"But you're not," Lily said matter-of-factly, flashing him a gap-toothed smile. "So it's all right. Where are you anyway?"

"The Room of Requirement," answered Albus and flicked his quill so it spun away and made it seem like he was still searching. The mirrors were his and Lily's secret, like the Map was James's not-as-well-kept one.

"Why?" Lily asked curiously, propping her chin on the palms of her hand and making him realize that she was probably stretched across her bed, bored to tears.

"You know those articles that have been appearing in the _Prophet_ for the past few days? Like the one about how our family is so dysfunctional and how Lucy probably got sick last January because of Grandmum's food-poisoning? And those newer ones about how James is a bully and Victoire is…well, never mind. Point is, you know about them, right?"

"Yeah, I know about them," Lily said, in a tone of voice that made him think she probably hadn't read the article about Victoire. "They're written by this Margarita Skit person, right?"

Albus rolled his eyes. "Margarita Skit is an alias, Lils. She's really our History professor, Rita Skeeter. Ask Aunt Hermione about her sometime."

"Your History professor is writing all those stupid articles?" Lily asked, an undercurrent of anger in her voice. "Then why don't you—"

"Prank her?" Albus interrupted, gesturing for her to keep her voice down. He had forgotten to flick the quill again, he realized, and quickly did that before replying. "We already have. Well, James and Fred and Louis and Johnny have. But most of us are helping Vicka with this crazy idea—to start our own newspaper, to fight back with words instead of pranks."

Lily studied him for a moment before her eyes lit up. "That's so cool! Can I help?"

Footsteps sounded. "Um, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later and come up with an answer, 'kay? Bye!"

He ran a hand across the gilded edge of the mirror, picked up his quill, and dove back out from under the table, shoving his mirror into his pocket just in time for James to see him working dilligently like a good little writer.

"You spent a long time under the table," James said suspicously, stopping by Al's work table.

Albus bit off a feather from his quill, spit it out, and smiled innocently at his older brother. "Elusive quill," he said with a shrug. "What're you gonna do?"

* * *

"I think we're almost done, Vicka," Jenny said, holding up a sheaf of documents containing all the stories and pictures that the staff of _Crazy Chronicles_ had labored over for the past week. "We just have to copy the articles and photos to the layout and figure out a way to distribute them throughout the school."

Victoire finished the sentence she was working on her notebook—ideas for future articles, she had said—and glanced up. "Oh, don't worry. I already thought of that."

"Of course you did," Jenny shook her head, amused. "You think of everything."

Victoire grinned. "I try my best," she replied, rising to her feet. "How many of the staff are in here right now?"

Jenny took a quick head count. "Albus, Rose, Scorpius, Lucy, Louis, Johnny," she reported. "And you and me."

"All right." Victoire took out a galleon and fiddled with it for a while. Jenny felt her own matching galleon in her pocket heat up in response and smiled. Victoire's Aunt Hermione was certainly an ingenious witch. Without her and the stories of the DA, the Crazy Staff, as they had taken to calling themselves, would never have been able to find an effective method of communication.

"The rest should be coming soon," Victoire said, looking up. "We've got about an hour to get this newspaper looking fabulous, so let's get to work."

And work they did. Copying and pasting the stories onto the layout was an easy task with magic, as was duplicating the newspapers so they had over two hundred copies, enough for every student in the school. The problem came with getting the pictures to move.

"You'll need a potion," Scorpius said after watching the elder girls work for a while.

"What kind of potion?" Victoire asked, frustrated.

Scorpius shrugged. "I don't know. I just remember Uncle Alex saying that he used some special potion to make his pictures move."

"You have an uncle named Alex?" Jenny asked in surprise, because it was such an un-Malfoyish name.

"Yeah." Scorpius seemed to realize what she thinking. "He married my mum's sister," he explained in response to her questioning look.

"All right, where do we get this potion?" Victoire combed a hand through her strawberry-blond hair and narrowed her eyes at the wall of the Room. Within seconds, a door had appeared in the wall.

Albus, who was closest, swung the handle and pushed it inwards, revealing a Potions lab. "Oh, Merlin's beard," he breathed, awestruck as he peered inside. "I think I love this room."

"You would," Rose grinned at her cousin. "Go on. Work your magic, Potions boy."

Albus didn't even bother to retort; he simply dove into the lab and began thumbing through a book of recipes lying on the work table. His cousins and Jenny exchanged glances.

"We should let him be," Lucy decided for everyone, and quietly closed the door before something could explode.

* * *

"We're ready!" James cheered, bursting from one of the many side-rooms the Room of Requirement had given them over the course of the past two weeks. "The _Crazy Chronicles_ are about to go live!"

"How?" Allison asked, twisting her bead bracelet around and frowning. "We still don't have a delivery system to sneak the newspapers in under Skeeter's eyes."

"_Au contraire, mademoiselle_," Louis grinned, materializing at Allison's side in true little-brother fashion. "We have a very good system in place to deliver the newspaper."

"Oh, yeah?" Rose asked, somewhat skeptically. "Show us, then."

Louis swept her a bow. "As you wish. Vicka!"

Victoire stood off-center in the middle of the room, seeming to be concentrating. "Felda!" she called, casuing some of her cousins to look confused. Who the heck was Felda?

In response, a tiny creature Apparated right in front of Victoire. All of them people gathered in the Room knew what she was on sight—a house-elf. Felda.

"Hello, Felda," Victoire smiled, kneeling to Felda's eye-level. "We need your help. Would any of your friends be willing to do us a huge favor?"

Felda bobbed her head in a nod. "Oh, yes, Mistress Vicky," she said, eyes wide. "Felda will be calling them right away, Mistress. How many of us are you needing?"

"Molly?" Victoire inquired, looking over at her younger cousin.

Molly adjusted her glasses. "A dozen, for now, I think," she answered after thinking it over.

"A dozen of the sneakiest and the fastest," Victoire relayed to Felda who nodded and Disapparated. A few moments later, Felda appeared along with a dozen excited, chattering house-elves behind her.

"Skeeter's doomed," Fred said, grinning as he watched Victoire brief the house-elves on what to do. "Absolutely, positively doomed."

* * *

**Author's Notes: Filler, filler, filler... Oh, well, can't live without it :) Hope you guys enjoyed, and don't forget to review! Next chapter's gonna be titled 'Reactions' or something along those lines, so that should give you something to look forward to. Thanks to everyone who reviewed; hope I didn't disappoint you!  
**


	5. Reactions

**Disclaimer: I own nobody you recognize.

* * *

**"—sure she isn't like that?"

"No! Are you crazy? I know her, and I know she's nothing like that!"

"Maybe she just hides it from you?"

"I'm positive she doesn't, Brian. I've only been her friend for seven years, y'know!"

"But she's a Veela!"

"She's only part-Veela! Less than a quarter, Bri! You're being stupid."

"Maybe you're just in denial. Everyone knows you had a crush on her back in your fourth year."

"Shut up!"

Neville decided to interfere before wands were drawn. "Boys! What's going on here?"

Joseph and Brian Davies whirled around to stare at him with wide eyes. "Nothing," Joseph stammered. "Nothing, we were just…talking."

"Spirited talk you were having," Neville remarked casually, glancing at Joseph's hand clenched into a fist, which was hastily unfolded by the boy in question. "Would it have anything to do with that newspaper you're clutching, Mr. Davies?"

Brian looked down sheepishly at the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ in his hands. "Oh, um…"

Neville held his hand out. Brian looked reluctant, but passed him the newspaper. "Margarita Skit has quite the sharp tongue," Neville noted, rolling up the paper. "I suppose you believe her stories, Brian?"

The sudden switch from last name to first name startled Brian for a moment. "Uh, well, I'm not exactly sure…"

"Whether or not she's right about Miss Weasley and the rest of her family?" Neville finished shrewdly. He winked at Joseph and knelt down to Brian's eye-level. His student look scared. "Listen, Brian," he said quietly. "You know I'm a close family friend of the Potters and Weasley, correct? And you know I've watched Victoire and the rest grow up, right? So, logically, I should know more about them than you, no?"

"Um, yes, sir," Brian muttered, glancing away.

Neville sighed. "Brian, listen. I know the Weasleys. And I know Rita Skeeter. And I can tell you that one of them is lying through her golden teeth, and it's not Victoire."

"But…" Brian looked helplessly at his brother who raised an eyebrow at him. "But rumors always have some truth in them!"

"Yes. And the truth is that Victoire has a temper and James enjoys teasing his younger siblings and cousins. But he's not a bully and Victoire isn't a scarlet woman, all right? Do you trust my word?"

"I guess," Brian sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just, well, everyone's talking about it. And Victoire and James and the rest do seem really mad all the time."

"Wouldn't you be mad too if one of your professors was publishing lies about you in a nationally-read newspaper?" Neville asked.

Brian chewed on his lip. "Well, yeah." There was a heartbeat of silence. "Are you going to make me go apologize to them?"

Neville frowned. "What?" Had the boy been _talking_ to the Weasleys about this? Why was he not in the Hospital Wing being treated for rainbow skin and feathery hair, then?

"You don't have to, Professor," Joseph interrupted, coming forward. "I will. Come on, Bri."

He took his brother's arm and dragged him down the hall towards the Ravenclaw Common Room. Neville rose to his feet and sighed, wondering just how bad things were going to get for his favorite students before they could finally fight back.

Smiling to himself at the thought of Victoire's plan, he began walking, heading straight towards a certain barmy portrait and blank stretch of wall.

* * *

"Ooh, did you make lemon bars, Dad?" Lily Potter asked excitedly, bouncing into the kitchen and appearing at her amused father's side. "Can I have some?"

"Just one for now, Lily," Harry warned her, smiling as she dove for one of the yellow and white bars neatly cut and laid out on a plate. "We're saving the rest for when Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione get here."

"Aw," Lily pouted, but obediently stayed away from the rest of the plate while she ate. "Daddy, is it true that Rita Skeeter is out to ruin our family's reputation?"

Harry did a double-take, startled. "_What?_ Lily, where did you hear that?"

"Albus mentioned it," Lily said. "In a letter," she added hastily, because her father really didn't need to know that she and Al had taken some of those back-up mirrors he kept for the Aurors in his office.

"Oh," Harry muttered, too distracted by his own thoughts to notice Lily's lie. "Are they pranking her?"

"Some of them are," Lily nodded, biting into half of her lemon bar. "James and Fred and Louis and their friends. What would you do?"

"Blackmail her," said Harry under his breath, but cleared his face into a smile for his daughter. "Never mind. What else did Albus say?"

"He said that Victoire's got a plan," answered Lily, showing off her missing front tooth with a smile. "And they're all pitching in."

Harry grinned. "Well, that's wonderful."

"It is?" Lily blinked at him, as innocent as any angel.

"Of course." Harry laughed, ruffling her fire-bright hair. "Victoire doesn't lose. You should know that by now. _Rita_ should know that by now." He began whistling a cheerful tune as he returned to cooking. "And if she doesn't, well…she will soon."

"Very soon," Lily agreed happily, and skipped off to her bedroom—but not before stealing another lemon bar behind her father's back.

* * *

On Saturday, Rita Skeeter woke to a very unpleasant surprise.

There was a newspaper, front page open, magically glued to the wall right in front of her bed. Frowning in confusion, she got up and walked over to see what it was about. It certainly wasn't the _Prophet_, as evidenced by the the colorful borders—green and red and yellow and blue, the House colors, she realized—and the bright golden ink instead of the _Prophet_'s usual black ink. It was also titled _Crazy Chronicles_ up top in fancy, feminine calligraphy, obviously hand-written by many different people instead of magically typed out.

"What in the world?" she muttered to herself, snatching it down and studying it carefully. The front page featured an article titled 'Stamping Out The Skit', which seemed to be an unusual title until she remembered her alias—Margarita Skit.

Suddenly annoyed, she skimmed through the article, realized it was full of insults towards _her,_ and went back to reread it, her anger growing.

"Those—little—brats!" Rita screamed after reaching the end of the article. How could they start an unapproved newspaper like this designed to ruin her good name? It was infuriating! It was ridiculous! It was…crazy.

The title of the newspaper suddenly had new meaning to her. Leveling her fiercest glare on the parchment in her hands, she promised herself that every single Potter and Weasley, in Hogwarts and out, was going to pay.

Rita glared out the window, formulating her next step. This was _war_.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Yay! Plot! Don't you just love it? =D Hope you guys enjoyed this, and if you did (or didn't), please review! The sixth chapter is ready and roaring to go; the sooner you review, the sooner I post... :) Thanks!  
**


	6. All's Fair In Love & War

**Disclaimer: I own the Davies brothers and Lucy's Quidditch Captain, but that's it.

* * *

**It was hard to imagine anyone less likely to apologize to her than Brian Davies, but here we was, standing in front of her with a blush on his face as he stammered an apology out to her.

Well, not to _her_ exactly. She was just a proxy to Victoire and James, because he was (understandably) scared to confront them personally. Still, it was amusing and strangely flattering. She'd known Brian for five years now—they were classmates, after all—and he had always seemed like an annoying jerk, constantly tugging on her braids and teasing her about her abysmal handwriting and reading glasses.

She did have to admit, though, that he looked rather cute at the moment, avoiding both her eyes and the glare of his older brother as he attempted to coherently phrase together an apology. It went something like, 'Um, hi, Weas—I mean, Lucy…uh, do you think you could—erm, maybe, possibly tell your cousins that, well, um, I'm…y'know, sorry for thinking that they…well, that Margarita Skit was right about them…uh, you know what I mean?'

Needless to say, she was plenty amused.

"Why should I?" she asked, hiding a grin under the cover of annoyance and confusion. "If you honestly believed that Skeeter was right about _my_ cousins, then you deserve every prank—"

"I'll take you to Hogsmeade," Brian blurted out, blushing brighter under the combined incredulous gazes of Lucy and Joseph. "If—if you tell them for me. Please."

Lucy crossed her arms and peered at him, wondering if he was serious. "Why would I want to go to Hogsmeade with you, Davies? You've been nothing but a jerk to me for five years."

At this, Joseph laughed. "Oh, please, Lucy, he's fancied you for years!"

Brian aimed a kick at his brother, who dodged, still laughing. Lucy blinked in surprise. "What?" she asked, disbelieving. "You can't possibly expect me to believe—"

She was getting interrupted a lot lately, she mused, half-exasperated, half-bemused, as Brian opened his mouth again. "Um, listen—ignore him, sorry, he's an idiot—I meant what I said. I'll take you to Hogsmeade if you tell your cousins that I apologized."

Lucy studied him for a moment, making him fidget, then made up her mind. "No."

Brian looked crestfallen. "No?" he repeated, looking scared, as though her decision would make James leap out from behind the bushes and hex him silly. It was rather entertaining, watching him act scared of a second-year, but James did have a lot of clout—and connections—around Hogwarts already, so she supposed was understandable.

Lucy adjusted her glasses and smiled at him, a genuine grin. "I won't go to Hogsmeade with you, Davies. But I will tell my cousins what you said."

"Oh." Brian looked like he didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. "Um, okay. Thanks. I'll just…go, then."

He waved, looking awkward, but there was a half-smile on his face, and Lucy found herself waving back as he walked away. Joseph offered her a grin and headed the other way, and she began humming happily, wandering aimlessly through the courtyards, when she bumped into someone.

Her humming trailed off abruptly into a gasp. Glaring down at her with fire in her eyes was Rita Skeeter herself.

* * *

"Hello, Miss Weasley," Rita said coldly, glowering at the tiny, blond fifth-year. "How _are_ you doing today?"

The fake politeness and mockingly sweet smile had Lucy stepping back in alarm. "Um, fine, Professor, thanks," she said, one hand slipping into her pocket as her gaze darted around, no doubt searching for back-up.

Rita scoffed mentally. As if her pathetic cousins could help her here. "Now, Miss Weasley, you are related to James Potter and Frederick Weasley, yes?"

"Yes, Professor," Lucy answered obediently, withdrawing her hand from her pocket. "Why?"

Rita bared all her teeth in a chilling smile. "So you would know if they were the oh-so-funny jokesters who glued _this_ newspaper to my wall this morning?"

Lucy gulped, staring at the copy of _Crazy Chronicles_ that Rita was brandishing in front of her face. "Um, no, Professor."

"No?" Rita repeated, eyes flashing.

"I wouldn't know, Professor," Lucy amended hastily. "They never let me in on their pranks."

"Oh, _don't_ they?" Rita asked sweetly, blood boiling. The girl had the audacity to lie to her face? "Well, forgive me for noticing, but do you not own a camera?"

"Yes, I do, Professor," Lucy answered, taking a deep breath.

Rita smiled like a cat who'd caught a mouse. "So, you deny that you take the majority of the pictures in this newspaper?"

Lucy pulled herself to her full height. "Yes, Professor."

Rita ground her teeth. Where was the meek little girl she had trapped earlier? "Really, now? You didn't take any of these pictures, you say?"

Blue eyes widened, the perfect picture of innocence. "Did I say that?"

"Yes!" Rita burst out, frustrated.

"No, no, Professor, I think you're mistaken." Lucy's smile was unsettling. "You asked if I had taken the _majority_ of those pictures. I have not."

Rita opened her mouth, ready with a scathing reply, when she was interrupted by a familiar girl with strawberry-blond hair and a sugary-sweet smile on her face. Her eyes narrowed as Victoire Weasley skidded to a stop at her younger cousin's side.

"Hello, Lucy, Professor," Victoire inclined her head, not even bothering to hide her disdain of Rita. "I do hope I'm not interrupting anything _terribly_ important, but Captain Macmillan is getting rather antsy at the absence of his Seeker." She flashed Lucy a reassuring smile. "I'd hurry on over there, if I were you, Luce."

"Oh, right, Quidditch practice!" Lucy's voice was inflicted with almost genuine surprise, making Rita glower. "Sorry, Professor. Gotta go! Bye!"

Rita watched her dash off through narrowed eyes, then glared at the Ravenclaw girl still standing there. "You—" she began poisonously, infuriated at the girl.

Victoire flashed her pearly-white teeth in a smile that chilled Rita's blood. "Yes, Professor?" she asked angelically.

Rita bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood, then whirled around and stalked off, Victoire's laughter echoing in her ears.

* * *

"I can't believe how popular our newspaper is," Rose marveled as she watched students all throughout the Great Hall gossip and laugh and enthusiastically peruse their colorful copies of the _Crazy Chronicles_. "They don't even know who writes it!"

"I think they've got a fairly good idea," Scorpius said dryly, not failing to notice the sidelong glances he, along with most of the staff of _Crazy Chronicles_, was receiving from other students. "They just don't care to speak up about their theories."

"All the better for us," said Albus, buttering his toast ("Toast for dinner, Al? Really?" Scorpius had said last night and had been dutifully ignored by his friend before giving up). "This way, Skeeter's only got suspicions, not actual evidence."

Rose blinked. "Well, don't be silly, Albus, of course the Chudley Cannons are getting better! Didn't you see their last game?" she said loudly, punctuating her words with a fake laugh.

"What?" Albus and Scorpius said in unison, dumbfounded by her sudden subject switch.

"Yeah, and soon," Rose plowed on persistently, "they're gonna be good enough to beat those stupid Ballycastle Bats! You'll see!"

Bewildered silence prevailed for a moment, until the trio heard the sharp clicks of heels on the floor, sauntering away from them. Rose breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness!"

"What was that about?" Scorpius demanded, rounding on her. "I know as well as you do that you don't care one whit about Quidditch!"

Rose rolled her eyes at him. "Didn't you hear?" she asked. "Skeeter was standing just a few feet away, eavesdropping. I had to talk about something stupid to throw her off-guard!"

Albus narrowed his eyes at the back of Rita Skeeter. "She was—she was _spying_ on us?" he asked in outraged disbelief.

"Hush," Rose ordered. "We threw her off our scent then, but she'll be back. And we'll be ready."

Her determined statement echoed in the space between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables for a moment, before Scorpius sighed. "You have _got_ to stop reading all those mystery novels."

* * *

**Author's Notes: Is it wrong for me to ship Brian/Lucy after writing just one scene with them? Honestly, though, I think they're adorable, in a quirky, love-and-hate way :) If you liked them (or the rest of the chapter), please review! Also, thanks to everyone who's reviewed the last few chapters! I love you guys =D  
**


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